Chapter 38
Chapter 38: Buddhist Scion Undresses to Save People
On the third day of her “paid leave,” Lin Qing Xuan came again.
He carried a medicine tray, his steps light as a cat’s. One moment the room was empty; the next he was at Xiao Man’s bedside, silent as breath.
His face was still that cool, distant kind of mercy. Lashes lowered. A hint of Buddhahood baked right into his bones.
Xiao Man’s heart went thud.
She clamped her eyes shut and played dead, committing fully to the role of a pig asleep in a trough.
Feigning death was her last stubborn dignity.
Too bad her wounds didn’t respect dignity.
The bruise on her lower belly seized with a sudden, sharp ache. Her lips twitched against her will.
It was tiny—barely anything. Lin Qing Xuan caught it anyway.
He sat on the round stool beside the bed. The room fell so quiet it felt like the air itself was holding its breath.
Xiao Man could practically feel her heartbeat crowding up her throat.
What now?
What did he want this time?
Lin Qing Xuan didn’t speak. He only reached out—familiar and precise—and peeled back the gauze over her injury.
His fingertips were cold, carrying a clean herbal scent. A cotton swab dipped in emerald ointment touched down on her lower belly.
The motion was impossibly gentle, like a feather passing over skin.
Xiao Man’s rigid body eased, inch by inch.
Fine. For service this attentive, she could allow herself to be waited on.
Top-tier VIP patient treatment—why refuse?
She sank into it, letting herself drift… until he opened his mouth.
“Thus have I heard. At one time, the Buddha was at Jetavana Grove in Shravasti, together with a great assembly of 1,250 monks…”
While he applied the medicine, he began to recite the Diamond Sutra.
His voice was clear and cool, each syllable crisp. Every word hit Xiao Man’s ears like an ice-polished jade bead.
And paired with that holy, abstinent face—like he’d stepped straight out of the Western Heaven—it truly looked like an eminent monk descending to deliver the suffering.
Xiao Man almost forgot to breathe.
She endured it.
It was just chanting, right?
She’d treat it like a free audiobook.
Except every line he recited, she screamed back in her mind.
“…At that time, the World-Honored One, at mealtime, put on his robe and carried his bowl…”
Xiao Man bared her teeth at the pain, her mind locked in a fierce tug-of-war.
I’m a patient!
I’m not some evil spirit!
My wound won’t split open from your sutra—but my brain will!
This isn’t holy sound lingering in the rafters. This is fucking demonic noise poured straight into my ears!
No. She couldn’t let him keep going.
To fight the life-draining scripture, Xiao Man had a sudden flash of inspiration. Her mind spun at top speed.
If he insisted on cleansing her with Buddha’s words, she’d counter with something strong enough to stain her soul back into place.
Come on.
Give your sister something spicy.
One image after another flashed through her head like a lantern show gone feral. Sutras, precepts, rules—she kicked them all into the clouds.
She even added background music.
The corner of her mouth crept upward, against her will.
Up and up, until it curved into a blissed-out little smile.
Right as she was having the time of her life and enthusiastically placing an order for the next little brother, a chilly sentence drifted down.
“You’re fantasizing about me again?”
Lin Qing Xuan had stopped chanting at some point. He was looking at her now, eyes lowered, calm as still water—yet full of quiet certainty.
Xiao Man’s pupils nearly shook loose.
Inside, she was wailing. Outside, she wore a perfectly innocent face that said, The wind is loud. I can’t hear a thing.
She blinked, pure as a rabbit.
Lin Qing Xuan moved like a man already holding the answer. He covered the wound with fresh gauze, then closed the sutra with graceful care and set it aside.
“The Heart Sutra says: form is emptiness.”
He paused, gaze steady on her stubbornly composed face. Then, in the same mild tone he used for medicine and scripture, he said, “If you’re thinking about abs, you might as well look at mine.”
Before Xiao Man could process the sentence, his long fingers settled on his sash.
Unhurried. Natural. Like he truly meant to untie it.
Xiao Man jolted so hard every hair on her body stood up. Pain be damned, she sprang upright, yanked the quilt tight, and wrapped herself from head to toe into a sealed cocoon.
Only her terrified eyes showed.
“Y-you… what are you doing?!”
Her voice stuttered. Her face burned so hot it could have dripped.
“Are you saving all beings, or seducing all beings?!”
“Does Buddha know you’re this improper?!”
Outside the room, a single finger poked through the window paper.
Xiu He covered her mouth, eyes round as coins, staring at the explosive scene inside. She nearly screamed.
The Eldest Grandson Young Master… was going to take his clothes off?
In front of Xiao Man—the maid?
Heavens.
If this got to Old Madam’s ears…
Xiu He stopped spying and ran. She grabbed her skirts and sprinted toward the Pine-Crane Hall like her life depended on it, hairpin tilting crooked with her speed.
“Old Madam! Old Madam! Something’s wrong—no, it’s too right!”
She burst inside, breathless, cheeks flushed.
Old Madam had been rolling her prayer beads with eyes closed. Startled, she opened them with a frown.
“What is it? Why are you making such a commotion!”
Xiu He clutched the doorframe, gulping air.
“The Eldest Grandson Young Master—he… he… he’s going to undress and deliver someone at the Auspicious Cloud Residence!”
Old Madam’s hand jerked. The glossy sandalwood beads snapped from her fingers and slapped the tabletop with a sharp clack.
The glow in her eyes flared bright, and whatever calm detachment she’d been cultivating vanished on the spot.
She looked ten years younger all at once.
“Quick.”
“Go to the storeroom. Bring the newly made pair of mandarin-duck pillows—immediately—and send them to the Auspicious Cloud Residence!”
That night, Xiao Man dreamed again.
In the dream, the cold, abstinent “Buddhist Scion” from the day shattered his own image without mercy.
He didn’t chant. He didn’t preach.
He only undid sashes like a man possessed.
Moonlight spilled through the lattice and painted him pale gold.
Step by step, he closed in. The eyes that were usually still as an old well now burned with two dark sparks.
He leaned to her ear, voice rough, velveted with temptation.
“Xiao Man. Is this the muscle hunk you wanted?”
Xiao Man lowered her gaze automatically.
And sucked in a sharp breath.
This Buddhist Scion had a body worth sinning over.
Defined chest, carved abs, deep V-lines—harder than the life she fought for in this manor.
It didn’t match his fragile, slender daytime self at all. It was like two different men shared one face.
What a tragedy.
Her whole body ached like she’d been chopped apart and stitched back together. She couldn’t move an inch.
All she could do was watch that “beauty” sway right in front of her, with no way to enjoy it.
A complete waste of such perfect springtime.
In the dream, Xiao Man pounded the bed, furious beyond reason.
What a waste.
A crime against heaven.